Coffee and Cigarettes
by Crystal Dawn
Summary: Schoen stops for coffee and a cigarette on the way home and runs into some unexpected company.


**Disclaimer:** Nothing belongs to me. Except the pack of Djarums I bought today. Everything else is Takehito Koyasu's money machine. Don't smoke unless you're of age to buy them yourself. And even then, heed the Surgeon General's warnings - they're bad for you, mmmkay?

Coffee and Cigarettes  
by Crystal Dawn Phoenix

The morning and afternoon had been warm, if a bit overcast. By nightfall, the clouds had darkened to the point of bringing a bit of rain. And by the time the sky had completely darkened, the rain had passed.

It was all the same to Schoen, really. The air felt good for a late-spring evening - not too cold, not too hot or humid, not too windy. And there had been just enough rain to wash the building pollen out of the air and streets and into the gutters; there was a yellow film building on the edges of the little rivulets washing into the sewer gratings along the sidewalks.

Hands in coat pockets, a shopping bag hanging carelessly from one wrist, Schoen walked down the busy Shibuya street, the square, purple-tinted sunglasses she'd worn out glinting in the neon lights. All things considered, today had been as good of a day as she could've hoped for.

After the mansion had burnt, and Masafumi had been put into a coma, all of Schrient had been working feverishly to bring their plans for revenge against Weiß to fruition. Hel especially had been pulling nights, and Neu had gone out several nights herself to stalk her prey. Tot and Schoen helped out where they could, neither of them having been especially well-known for their intellect. But on days like today, when Hel was absorbed in some lab work or another and Neu was busy with her spying, Schoen and Tot were usually left to their own devices.

So, having nothing better to do, Schoen took a day trip to Shibuya for a bit of shopping.

The first place she'd hit had been a high-class boutique. Surely she could be forgiven for picking up a new pair of shoes, particularly when they were a stunning set of white thigh-high boots. Right? If asked, she figured she could tell her teammates that they'd be part of her new battle suit. The last one had been damaged beyond repair in that fire, after all.

After the boutique, she'd passed a tobacco store. On a whim, she stopped inside to see if by chance they had the one thing she liked to smoke - imported clove cigarettes. She'd acquired a taste for them in her modeling days, but rarely found time to look for them anymore; they could be excruciatingly difficult to find. As luck would have it, the small store did have her favored cancer sticks; she bought a pack of the vanilla flavored ones, savoring the thought of finally being able to smoke one again.

She had to choose when she did carefully, though; one of them was enough to leave her with a small cough for the rest of the day. Cloves weren't known for their smooth flavor, after all. Besides that, they were pretty good for drawing a small buzz; just smoking one in the middle of the street wasn't the best of ideas in such a busy area.

By the time she'd emerged from the tobacco shop, night had fallen and Schoen had grown hungry. And while she found it a bit clichéd, she stopped at a sushi bar. It had been a long time since she'd had sushi, and she figured that she might as well treat herself while she was out. Besides, she could always work the extra calories from the rice off at the gym tomorrow; it wasn't like she had much else better to do (well... there was always stalking the soccer player, but really, she didn't expect him to do much on a Sunday, anyway). So tako shabu-shabu and a spicy tuna roll it was.

Of course, Schoen reasoned, every good meal should be followed with coffee, and at the moment, she was craving a plain cappuccino. Looking at her watch as she emerged from the sushi bar, however, she found that it was now about five till nine; any of the commercial coffee houses would close at nine o' clock. There was no way she'd find a Starbucks in time to actually order anything before they closed. Sighing, she figured that she might as well walk down the sidewalk a bit on the off chance that she might find an independent coffee house that was still open. If she couldn't find one, what was she out, anyway? A few minutes worth of walking?

As it turned out, she didn't have to walk far; there was a small neon sign with a coffee cup on it just a block or two down from the sushi bar. At first glance, though, Schoen was a bit disappointed - it looked as though they were closed, even though their sign was lit. The windows were a bit dark for the cafe to be open, weren't they? As she drew closer, however, Schoen noticed that there were in fact dim lights on in the cafe. There were even plenty of patrons seated at the tables she could see nearest the tinted plate glass windows. They all seemed to be paying attention to something in one corner of the restaurant from what she could tell.

Pushing the door open, she realized what they were all looking at; beside the door, hidden from the glass windows, there was a small stage. The patrons were turned toward the stage, listening to a young woman reading evenly from a sheet of paper held in her right hand. Schoen glanced at her in vague interest before heading toward the back of the vaguely smokey, dim room, where she had spotted the bar.

Schoen spoke in a hushed tone to the barrista so as not to disturb the other patrons. "I'd like a cappuccino, please," she said softly, "And something to sweeten it with." The barrista nodded and scratched the order down on a spare slip of paper.

"You can go ahead and have a seat wherever you like," he replied, "I'll bring your coffee out to you when it's done." Schoen gave him a small smile.

"It's okay to smoke in here, isn't it?" she asked as she turned to sit down, "I can smell smoke."

"Sure," the barrista returned, turning away to make her drink. Satisfied, Schoen took off her black leather coat, sat at the table nearest the bar, and turned to listen to the performer. As she waited on her drink and listened to the lady talk about her adventures in England and her love for a foreign comedienne, Schoen opened her purse and drew out her gold cigarette case and lighter.

She picked the cigarette at the end out and placed it firmly between her lips. A flick of the lighter and a long draw later, and it was lit, the warm scent of cloves washing over her in a dizzy haze of near-ecstasy. Schoen let a long puff of smoke escape her lips as she leaned back in her chair and reached over to turn the ashtray that sat upside-down on the table over.

A few tables back, toward the worse-lit section of the restaurant, two men sat together, talking in low tones amongst themselves.

"I don't see why you wanted me to come here," the taller one said, his discomfort apparent in his voice, "This place really isn't my style." The smaller one shrugged.

"I think it's pretty relaxing, myself," he said to his companion, "You've looked a bit stressed lately, so I figured you might like to come out with me. I like to come here when I'm stressed. You can just hang out, get a bite to eat, drink a coffee, listen to some music..." The taller one folded his arms behind his head and leaned back against the wall in his chair.

"Maybe you could bring Ouka-san here on a date," he said absent-mindedly, "But... I don't even like coffee..." The younger man's blush was almost apparent in the dim light.

"Ken-kun..." he admonished, unable to think of anything more to say.

Ken let his eyes wander over the customers in the coffee shop, each of them turned toward the woman who was speaking on the stage. Honestly, he preferred a more physical comedy than what she had to offer, but figured that maybe he should be content to just people-watch while he waited on Omi to finish his coffee.

As his mind drifted, his eyes were drawn by the flash of a lighter a few tables ahead of them. For the few seconds it took the woman to light her cigarette, he could see her face illuminated by the flame of her lighter. It took a second for the image to click with him as she looked a bit different with her hair down, but he finally recognized her - that was the blonde from Schrient!

Ken almost lost his balance on the chair's hind legs; the chair wobbled for a second before he sat it down with a clank and a jerk forward. He gave Omi a perhaps too-sharp poke in the ribs.

"Omi, did you see that?" he whispered frantically. His eyes didn't leave the blonde; she was taking a cup of coffee from the waiter now, smiling up at him. What the hell was she doing here, anyway?

"Ow!" Omi replied, wincing, "Did I see what?" Ken pointed at the woman so that Omi could discern her as well.

"Her," he said pointedly as Omi took a sip of his coffee, "The blonde. She's the one from Schrient!" Omi looked at the woman critically in the dim light, and then back to his companion.

"Her?" he asked skeptically, "Wasn't her hair shorter?" Ken gave Omi a critical look before directing his attention back at the blonde criminal seated in front of them.

"No," Ken answered quickly, "She just had it up then." Omi turned to Ken, then, his mouth open.

"Hey, wait," he whispered, "That can't be her! Didn't she die in that fire?" Ken blinked, realizing that Omi was right - or at least they'd all thought it was that way.

"Well... we didn't actually see any of the bodies," Ken said thoughtfully, watching the woman take another sip of her coffee. Maybe it was just a coincidence?

Two tables closer to the front of the shop, Schoen sat drinking her cappuccino in silent bliss. The young woman at the front of the shop left the stage as a trio of musicians took her place. Schoen listened enrapt as they began to strum out old American rock songs on their guitars.

This was truly a moment of fantastic calm in an otherwise chaotic existence; she couldn't think of a single thing to make the moment more perfect. It had been a lovely day, she had a wonderful cigarette in front of her, the cappuccino was fantastic. The cigarette and the coffee had mingled to leave a smooth, velvety feeling in her mouth; the vanilla flavoring on the cigarette had even left a sweet taste on her lips.

Before she knew it, the coffee had been drained and the cigarette burned down. Truthfully, she was a little disappointed that both were gone, but couldn't help but feel satisfied nonetheless. Schoen allowed herself another small smile as she stood, still enjoying the rush from the clove, and went to clear her bill with the man behind the counter.

As soon as her bill was paid, she dropped a couple hundred yen into the tip jar, draped her light leather coat over her shoulder, and headed toward the door. As wonderful as the night had been thus far, she was completely unaware that she was being watched by two pairs of eyes from the shadows.

"I'm going to follow her," Ken whispered, rising as the blonde made her way toward the door. Omi looked up at him apprehensively.

"What if it's not her?" he asked, a worried tone in his voice.

"Then nothing will happen, obviously," the brunette replied, turning toward the door.

Schoen stepped outside into the temperate night air. Letting her eyes drift shut, she took a deep breath. The clean scent of rain mingled with the faint scent of exhaust and city traffic; yes, tonight was definitely a great night to be alive. Even luckier, she spotted a cab sitting unoccupied only a few meters down the sidewalk from her. Tonight was absolutely her night.

As she walked smiling toward the taxi, she heard the door of the cafe open and shut behind her. She ignored it as she reached the cab, leaning down to look into the driver's side window that was parked against the curb.

"Are you taking passengers?" she asked, getting a nod in reply from the cabbie.

"I'm open," he said, grinning like a fool. Perhaps, Schoen thought, he'd give her a discounted fare. She smiled down at him.

"Fantastic," she replied, stepping to open the door behind the driver's seat. As she did, she gave the coffee shop a backwards glance. What she saw almost stopped her heart.

Halfway between her and the coffee shop, a pair of dull green eyes glared at her from beneath messy brown bangs. Gloved hands were shoved deep into the pockets of a brown leather riding jacket. She knew all too well what was on the other end of those gloves.

"Weiß," she mouthed the word, her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her lips. He seemed to catch the meaning, anyway.

"So it _was_ you," he growled, almost too quietly for Schoen to hear. Schoen could almost feel herself panicking. Almost, except...

The palm of her hand found the side of the cab's door. Reaching down, she realized that the door's handle was easily within her reach. In one smooth motion, she caught the handle with her fingertips, lifted it up, opened the door, and slid inside.

"Let's get going," she said to the driver as she shut the door and rolled the window down. As the car began moving, she dared to stick her head out the window and look back at the startled Weiß she'd left standing on the sidewalk. A broad smile overtook her face as her hair began to whip back into her eyes and she waved at him.

"Bye bye, Weiß," she said loudly, stifling a giggle. Sure she was paraphrasing Tot, but she couldn't resist. Pulling herself back inside, she rolled up the window.

"Where are we headed, miss?" the taxi driver asked, turning the meter on. Schoen was too busy laughing to herself to give him an answer at the moment. This was the perfect end to the perfect day; not only had she found a fantastic new pair of boots, bought her favorite brand of cigarettes, eaten a wonderful meal, and had a terrific coffee, but she'd made a fool of one of Weiß to boot.

Yes, today was definitely the best day Schoen could remember.


End file.
